Coming Out Of The Dark
by Pokiepup
Summary: There more to Lauren's past than Bo knows-there is more to her past than even she knows. Three months after 4x13. Written as a prompt from LostGirlz. Rating M.
1. Empire

**A.N. **Written for and to a prompt by LostGirlz, will be a two-shot.

**Warning: Rated M.**

* * *

_**Chapter One: Empire**_

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This is bullshit,

I kick the door shut with my left foot, probably one of the only things left on me that doesn't feel like it's about to break off. My left hand gently rubbing my right wrist trying to get it crack back into place, Dyson had snapped it back in somewhat but he wasn't a doctor and Tamsin—well Tamsin wasn't touching me, girl freaked out when I had to snap my own knee back into the socket. I didn't need her starting and stopping halfway through fucking me up worse than I already am.

Already feel like Mr. Potato Head, don't need to look like it too.

Coming to the end of the hall I look around the dark apartment, lately I find myself using the terms '_apartment'_ and '_house'_ rather than home, it just doesn't feel like one anymore.

Three months and still no closer to getting Kenz back than I was the day she died. Not for lack of trying though—that's for certain.

A heavy sigh practically echoing through the space as I try to crack my neck, glancing over toward the fridge I contemplate food but then again what I needed to feed on couldn't be found in my pathetic excuse for a kitchen.

I should have took Dyson up on his offer-or Tamsin-hell with the way things are between them lately I could have had them both at once-that would have definitely healed me right up.

_Lauren,_

Her name echoing through my pain riddled mind puts an end to my contemplation before it even really begins—same reason I turned him—them down on the spot.

What was I doing?

No fucking clue but then again I tend to always be this way when it came to her. Never having a clue about her, about where we stood, about how or when I was fucking up-just never any clue. Our relationship may as well be an elaborate game of Where's Waldo—just with occasional spurts of mind-blowing sex—God I missed the sex.

Sighing again this time at my thoughts rather than my pain I begin into the living room letting my jacket fall onto the floor effortlessly as it seems to just slip right off, same as my shoes—I could seriously get used to gym shoes. Fingers slip under the hem of my blouse-what's left of the shredded cloth anyway, I knew it was going to hurt but like with a band-aid one quick, fluid motion.

"Fucking shit," I mumble to myself as I toss the ball of fabric down onto the couch as if I had a personal problem with it.

_Note to self: Ask Dyson for a bulletproof vest._

Sure, I wasn't shot but the dame thing can stop bullets so it must cushion a blow or two, right? Logical assumption or stupid assumption? I'll ask Dyson or Tamsin, don't need to sound like an idiot to Lauren, she already thinks I'm a big enough one as it is without late night texts about random shit.

Would give me an excuse to text-after all I am paying her phone bill now.

Shaking off yet another thought of her I head through the hall, up the narrow staircase into my dim room—always kept the light on since Kenz—hated coming back to a completely silent, dark and empty apartment—just felt weird.

I stop just three steps in, succu-sense on full alert.

I look around the room quickly, mentally kicking myself for not leaving on a better light-or carrying a sharp object with me.

I feel a presence lurking behind me three steps back—two—one-I spin around left forearm slamming into this asshole's chest while the right grips his throat slamming him into the wall. Before my mind can even work my next move a heel to the side of my left knee sends my falling down onto them-may be sore but am still quick. As I find myself dropping I grab ahold of his forearms pulling him down with me. Though this asshole isn't stupid as he tries to counter my weight and ends up standing over me for a brief second-I'm still stronger.

I throw my weight back so I hit the floor with a thud and he goes crashing into the floor face first, shoulder slamming into mine earning a groan and really pissing me off. Shifting my weight in a second I have dickhead on his back, me sitting over his stomach, left hand holding his shoulder down as my right is cocked back in a fist.

"BO-LAUREN?!" the two of us let each other's names out in union, both just staring at one another in complete and utter surprise.

The asshole is Lauren? Wait-when was she learning to fight OR was I just so messed up that she could get a decent handle on me?

"What the hell are you doing?" I snap through a scowl, heart still pounding a mile a minute.

"I came to give you a letter from Markus, you weren't here so I was waiting." She snaps back at me.

"In my room?"

"Well I am your ex Bo not the mailman, didn't think it would be an issue."

"It's not."

"Then why are you still ready to hit me?" her voice still harsh and her eyes narrow through that scowl she only gets when she is really pissed. My eyebrow raises and I glance to my side seeing I was still in a position to hit her.

"Oops." I chuckle nervously as I use the edge of the bed for leverage while I push myself up and off of her before extending my hand which she takes. "I'm sorry, I just reacted and then you reacted which made me think asshole- not Lauren."

"Well, I have been called an asshole before." She gives a slight chuckle, brow still tightly furrowed.

"By who?" I sound a little defensive—like I am about to go kick their ass-how very girlfriend of me. I smirk at my own thought which earns an unusual look from her rather than a scowl—progress is progress. "I'm really sorry though Lauren."

"Its fine, I shouldn't have snuck up on you I just got scared that you weren't, well you." She gives me a grin and her features relax to their normal perfection though it's only for a moment before they are scrunching back up and she is taking a step toward me, her hand going to my shoulder. "Bo, my God. What happened?" she glances over my body before meeting my eyes.

"Um," it's all I can get out once I realize not only is she standing within my personal bubble but she is touching me and I'm shirtless. A rush of nervousness mixed with excitement spreads through me like a wildfire before settling in the pit of my stomach. "We were out in the woods searching for a Baxlebee, supposedly he had info on Kenz—know what he had?" I raise brow, irritation from my night's activities rushing back.

"Sharp teeth, sixteen pointy claws not including the ones on its feet and a six-foot tail laced in hundreds of fine pointed needles."

"Okay—maybe you do know." Damn, why was she so adorable and brilliant-and adorable. "Well doctor," I giggle out as I glance down at her. She is sort of bending down, left hand gripping my wrist as she traces her right fingertips over a nasty bruise starting under my ribcage and spreading upward.

"These are bad Bo."

"What can I say, I'm a bad-bad girl." I smirk down at her as she glances up into my eyes.

"Oh I know," she smirks, a flicker in her eyes but the way my body jerks to her light touch brings her back into doctor mode. "I'm serious, you need to heal and quickly."

"Sure let me just call up Subway and order the Caesar salad wrap with a side of extra spicy chi." I chuckle a bit—she is unamused as she moves down onto her knees, my eyebrows shooting up ever further. "Okay—um, yeah this is one way to shut me up."

"Bo," she does that half scowl, half grin as she glances up at me and I would have backed off had she not actually been undoing my jeans as she was doing this.

"I'm really not sure what is happening here but let me be the first to say-I am all for it."

"You went down way to easily when the heel of my foot collided with your patella, it shouldn't have been that easy given several factors including the difference in strength, weight, age—"

"I was all for the geek-speak until I think I heard you call me fat."

"When did I say that?" she halts with her fingers looped inside the waist band of my jeans.

"Um—doesn't even matter," I chuckle nervously. "What does me falling down like a weeble-wobble have to do with taking my pants off-again **not** complaining."

"Weeble-wobbles don't fall down Bo hence their name." another grin as she pull my pants down around my ankles—glad I wore panties today. "You wear extremely tight clothes so I could have struggled trying to get your pant leg up which would have resulted in me getting angry and your pain being furthered in my would be failed attempts or I could just take the easy route and remove them altogether."

"Doctor Lewis take the easy way out?"

"Once again Bo I am your ex and actually your physician for the past four years-"

"Not my mailman?" I smile, looking down to catch her glancing up again.

She is genuinely worried about my injuries there is no doubt about that and even if you couldn't tell just by looking at her or notice the concern in her eyes or feel it coming off of her in waves you could tell by how professional each and every single touch is.

But the feel was changing, like when it's a hundred degrees and all of a sudden a cool breeze comes out of nowhere breaking the stillness in the air.

It's different—my nervousness and uncertainty slipping away with every heartbeat.

"No, I am most certainly not your mailman." She says as she stands suddenly—she's felt it too. She wasn't a succubi, wasn't even Fae but she had a skill for noticing things-things like this.

"That's good—the uniform does nothing for me." My tone nothing more than a low and somewhat husky whisper.

"Get on the bed." She orders and my eyes widen a bit, but I just nod as I kick off my jeans and move to the bed. This was NEW but hey-why couldn't I have a nice surprise at the end of a bad week. "Wasn't aware you liked taking pictures." I chuckle as she pulls her cell phone from her pocket.

"What? Cute, no I am calling Dyson."

"You suddenly need help for lil' ol' me?" I flash a smile, teasingly opening my legs and closing them to half mass.

"Hm." She scoffs at the idea and I think I've actually offended her but none the less she looks back to her phone. "You need to heal and you continue to refuse to feed off of me, so."

"Well call me old fashioned but I like my women breathing."

"Are you saying I'm your woman?" she looks up from the phone, a familiar feeling coming over me at the nature of this banter.

"Are you saying you want to be?" bluff called doctor.

"I am saying that you have been running yourself rugged taking on Fae after Fae and not sleeping nor feeding—in either respect."

"Not true, I had a half a hotdog this afternoon and a half of a busboy on Tuesday."

"Oh, yeah Bo you've proven me wrong. Half of North America's most unhealthy food and half of a chi-treat three days ago." Did she just say chi-treat? ADBORABLE.

"What can I say, my appetite has suppressed."

"Bullshit." She snorts earning a chuckle from me.

"Doctor, language-my sensitive young ears."

"Six years Bo, you are six years younger." She scowls finally lowering her phone. "It's actually only like five and a half."

"Whatever you say doctor."

"Nice try by the way, I didn't forget." She smirks and starts raising the phone again, this time I spring off the bed, hand covering her wrist pushing it back down. "Bo, you need to feed."

"I will."

"Now."

"I am busy." My words seem to linger as I tempt fate and lean in, lips hovering over hers while my eyes move up her face to her gaze. "I am very busy." A whisper of playfulness that gives her the opportunity to pull away.

"Okay-I can be a temporary fix." She says so matter a fact as she pulls off her own shirt but I take a step back, features tightening. "What?" she asks innocently as she is already kicking off her shoes while untying the knot in her scrub pants.

"I—just—I don't know that was—"

"What?" she pushes her pants down, eyes alternating between me and her task literally at hand.

"Forgive me for being all girly here but that wasn't the most romantic thing to say."

"Romantic?"

"Lauren it's been months since we kissed, months before that since I felt you in my arms and months before that since we—I don't know I just had this expectation that if we were to—if we were to have sex again it would be about," I trail off realizing just how far into a topic I didn't want to go into I already was.

"Be about?" she asks softly, her eyes dancing over my face.

"Us." I take a deep breath, wave of embarrassment smacking into me before I take a step away from her.

She grabs my wrist and pulls me back against her, body falling into hers. Her hands going to my face as her lips slip between mine. My own hands sliding across her waist to the small of her back pulling her closer to me.

Didn't matter how tired I was, how much pain I was in, how upset I could be-none of it mattered with her—my body always reacts to her.

My drug of choice—my kryptonite.

Her thigh slips between mine and then mine follows her lead—maybe it's the other way around—it doesn't matter. What does matter is sensation it causes—the pleasure that shoots through me.

A simple touch from her can bring me to the edge of bliss—it could also pull me over but she has her ways of keeping me in place until SHE was ready.

I may be the succubus—but she was the dominate one in the bedroom.

Slender, cool hands sliding from my cheeks to my neck and then over my shoulders as she teases my lips with her tongue—she was such a playful kisser.

We maneuver ourselves back two steps and then over one until the back of my legs are pressing against the edge of the mattress. Her hands running down my arms to my hands before making the jump to my hips.

She bites my bottom lips before drawing it in between her own to sooth the pain with a suckle which earns her, her first audible moan from me.

Tongues teasing each other but neither will grant the other full permission.

Her hands sliding to the small of my back, traveling down until her fingers had slipped underneath the cotton material that once clung to my body.

"So doctor," a labored whisper as my eyes drift open to half mass, a smile on her lips—she had a thing for when I called her '_doctor_'-I did too.

"Hm," her lips teasingly grazing mine once—twice—three times.

"You still want to call Dyson for a little backup?" I smirk as I see her left eye give the slightest of twitches.

For a moment she is silent. For a moment she is still. For a moment the world is still.

Her hands slam into my shoulders pushing down onto the bed, her body covering mine before conscious thought can be formed. Her thigh back in between mine with a new amount of pressure that she can now achieve from this position.

Hands slide up my tensing stomach to the start of my bra which causes me to lean up though by the way she pulls it over my head in a single swift motion she makes it clear she needed NO assistance. Hands back on my shoulders, shoving me down onto the mattress as she begins the sweet torture that is her beyond skillful hips settling into a rugged rhythm.

She drops her mouth to my left breast skipping the teasing as she takes my hardening nipple between her teeth drawing it into her hungry mouth—my own hands flying into her hair.

"Lauren," her name rolls off my tongue effortlessly, hips arching up to meet her movements-top or not I was still stronger than her so despite the fact she is blissfully riding me with the intent to keep my from '_participating'_, it does little to nothing to stop me.

She pulls her mouth away but not before delivering one sharp bite that earns a whimper of pleasure, warm and wet mouth leaving a trail of kisses across my chest to my neglected nipple—another whimper being pulled from me.

"Fuck," my back arching as I press my head into the mattress, my hands running up and down her back every so often digging my nails in which only earns moans against my tender flesh.

I'm quickly being dragged toward the point of no return, conscious thought seeming to be escaping me as I can feel my actions becoming less controlled.

Nails dragging up her back to the clasp of her bra—ripping it open, then off of her throwing it somewhere. Our moans echoing through the room till it's all that can be heard. My hands grabbing her face and pulling her away from my breast to meet my lips.

Tongue needing no permission this time around as it slips passed her swollen lips, skilled tongue fighting with my own for dominance as she does but she won't win—not this time.

Somewhere lost in the pleasure of this kiss we find ourselves flipped, I know the movements of my hips are too rough for her and there is a tiny part in the back of my mind praying that she will say something-do something to push me back into check but instead I find hands gripping my hips '_helping_' me as her left leg wraps around my waist.

I can feel my restrain slipping away with every movement-every moan of hers begging me to know what I really am once and for all, begging me to see that part of me that she has yet to experience.

My hands grab fistfuls of sheet beside her head, wrists resting against her shoulders. Her head tilted to the right, eyes closed but her lips parted against my wrists—nipping, sucking, biting to keep from moaning any louder.

Further slips my shackles with every spike in her aura-with every faint hint of her sweet scent filling my nostrils.

Mind beginning to fall into a dizzy tailspin as all I can think about is fucking her-the ways I want to—boundaries I can test and most certainly want to cross-the ways I can show her exactly what I am—the ways I can show her a me that she has desperately wanted to know—tasting her—teasing her-

I jerk my head back in an abrupt moment of clarity, eyes flying open as my body comes to a still. Fears ripping through my body as I try to catch my breath.

"Fuck—Lauren are you okay?" it doesn't sound genuine-doesn't fully grasp the amount of concern I have at the moment due to the pants and laced huskiness of my tone.

"Wh—why did you stop?" she swallows, tongue darting out over her lips.

"I didn't mean to feed I was-" my eyebrow raises as I realize her hips are still moving teasingly against me, her eyes darker than I have ever seen them before, hands still clawing at my hips.

She wasn't turned off-she wasn't as depleted as she should have been for a human—she was in fact I think further excited by it than anything else.

A new wave of exhilaration and desire spreading through me as I feel my mind slipping towards its previous train of thought—the one that I sort of blacked out in.

She reaches up pulling my face down to her, kiss so dominate and passionate and rough I almost forget its Lauren I am kissing.

It's a second—maybe a minute and my mind is spiraling toward that unknown intoxication with her-the taste of her filling my mouth—the actual taste of her.

I've tasted her mouth, her wetness, her cum, her sweat, even tasted her blood on occasion when a bite was a little too rough—each enchanting, intoxicating, addictive, delicious, delectable.

None can compare to the taste of her essence.

* * *

"Lauren," her name a breathless and frantic whisper as I bolt upright.

Looking down beside me I lean over, eyes dancing over her face—body-back to her face.

Please God, please God, please God.

My inarticulate prayer answered in the form of a groan as she makes the tiniest of shifts hiding her face further into the pillow.

Swallowing back a wave of relief I look over what I can see of her body that remains uncovered by the sheet searching for marks—for something.

Eyes lingering on her shoulder blade flashes of last night-my nails ripping through her flesh—the memory proven fact rather than fiction as I spot the small blood stain on the sheet. Pulling the sheet down further, slowly as careful not to wake her, my eyes linger to the curve of her side. Another flash of me biting down hard enough to draw blood—sucking rough enough that she should at very least have a sever bruise but there is nothing but flawless, silky skin.

I run my fingertips over the area and earn the sightless of moans-did I feed her?

Shaking off the thought I slide from the bed and quickly slide back into my jeans before grabbing my bra and vest-shirt thing off the floor and heading downstairs.

Buttoning the last button as I walk into the living room I go for my jacket pulling my phone out and search through a series of texts.

**Dyson:** Bo let me know if you are alright? **(10:22 p.m.)**

**Dyson:** I need to know that you are alright, please. **(10:39 p.m.)**

**Dyson:** I am worried Bo, you did not look well. If you do not want to feed at least let me bring Lauren to look over you. **(11:06 p.m.)**

.

Ha. Yeah, she looked over me alright.

.

**Trick:** Bo we need to talk, call me first thing when you wake**. (5:27 a.m.)**

.

**Unknown:** I know we aren't supposed to break silence except in emergency but Lauren didn't return last night. Is she safe? **(6:01 a.m.)**

**.**

Lauren is fine—at least I think so.

I toss the phone onto the coffee table and look around the lonely apartment-this is one of those seriously needing to talk to Kenzi moments.

Something isn't right.

I am too healed, I am too-off.

I don't even get this charged off of Dyson or Tamsin—two completely different tastes, different levels of satisfaction but this was different.

I can see myself losing a little control in the beginning due to lack of feeding and sleeping and my injuries but it was just different—it was like being drunk only if you weren't and the hang over left you feeling amped and better than ever.

I settle down into the corner of the couch, memories of last night drifting back to me. I mean I remember it as a whole—I know what we did-so why were certain things having to '_Come back' _to me?

"Hey," she says with a sleepy smile, walking the few steps over toward me. "Everything okay?" no chance to answer as she leans down giving me a peck on the lips before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, her legs folded off to the side as she leans against the arm.

"Yeah."

"You don't seem okay."

"I—I'm just—confused."

"Um, well that isn't what a girl wants to hear." She smiles and extends her leg, foot tapping my thigh. She means to pull it way but I hold it, guiding it into my lap. "Bo, what's wrong?"

"I need to ask you something, and I really don't want to."

"What is it?" she asks, her tone beginning to resemble normal Lauren whether than sleepy and affectionate Lauren.

"I know how bad things have been for a while and I know you have become even more badass as, Doctor Evil within the past few months. I mean changing Taft and then changing Evony human—all brilliant and badass—sure they had their consequences hence you learning to be a ninja and bringing a new meaning to the word hiding but—"

"Bo." She says firmly but softly, her brow furrowing.

"I know our history is complicated to say the least and-I want you to know that no matter your answer I will be here for you. So please be honest," I pause giving her foot a squeeze as I glance over at her. "Lauren, did you-did you experiment-on yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did you—turn yourself?" she pulls her foot back as her features twist between confusion and anger but doesn't speak. "I never would have thought it but—last night-you—we—have you?"

"You of all people are going to sit there and ask me if I have turned myself Fae?" she snorts as she sits up right. "Sure, you're absolutely right. I've managed to make the serum and perform the procedure all on myself out of Glad's Tupperware, turkey basters and sewage." She snorts through a chuckle running her hand through her hair.

"Lauren,"

"Bo, seriously. Besides why-where the hell do you think I would get the means to do what I would need to do—for anything let alone that?"

"Maybe left overs?" I shrug which only earns me a glare. "Lauren, listen to me, God knows that this is not how I wanted this morning to go but I need to know the truth."

"You do."

"I—you're lying to me."

"You're calling me a liar?"

"I may not be brilliant—or even smart but I do know about some things." I snap not liking the extra emphasis she put on the '_you're'_ in her sentience. "You aren't human—you don't taste human."

"Jesus Bo-I knew I would end up regretting this." She practically jumps to her feet.

"For the sake of this conversation I'm going to pretend that didn't hurt." I snare as I bring myself to my feet. "You are mind-blowing and addictive and amazing, you blow any human out of the water and Fae too—on a normal day. But last night, last night was maddening, it was intoxicating-it was so many things I don't even have words for but am willing to look through a dictionary to find them just to accurately describe to you—but of all the things you were last night-human isn't one of them."

"You've lost your mind."

"Lauren," I snap grabbing her wrist as she tries to pass me undoubtedly to go back upstairs to get her shoes and jacket. "Listen to me," I say firmly but gently, staring into her eyes. "I love you and despite my track record I would never do anything intentionally to hurt you or upset you and I think you know that." Her eyes shift down to the floor for a moment before moving back to mine. "So why would I lie, why would I come up with something so ridiculous as this?"

"I—I don't know." She admits sternly with a shake of her head.

"I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are you. I know the feel of you, the taste of you—in more ways than one. I know the movements you make, the words you say and how you say them. I know the rhythm of your heart—I know all of this so I know that you are you—but you are—" I cut myself off swallowing down the lump in my throat, noticing for the first time the hint of fear in her eyes. "You aren't human, at least not completely."

"Bo, this is crazy." She pulls her wrist away but takes two steps back rather than trying to pass me.

"I know, I don't know maybe—could your family have been?"

"No Bo—" she stops herself only for a second before shaking her head at me. "Bo, I think your senses are off because there is no way that I am anything other than human. If I was don't you think someone would have noticed after all of this time?"

"Do you have a lot of succubi feeding on you?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Bo,"

"Lauren,"

"Look I don't know, maybe I am just you know like one of those sour-patch-kids, you know sour than sweet—or is it sweet than sour?" her brow furrows as she looks down at the floor, I assume trying to remember.

"Lauren," I say again firmly making her look at me. "Do you think maybe you left some serum out or the recipe and someone was playing evil genius?"

"The recipe so to speak is in my head only that is too dangerous to have laying out and about for the taking."

"Okay, well what about your parents or maybe your grandparents?"

"You want to have a discussion about my genealogy when you can't even make time to discuss us?"

"Wow, you re batting a thousand here Doc." I scowl but a sigh escapes and I remind myself that however nerve wrecking this is on me and off the wall it must me ten times as much for her. "Lauren, please." I motion toward the couch as I take a seat. "You got me I am avoiding the talk about us. You got me again with the fact that I maybe never asked much about your past but it's not because I didn't care I just—I've spent my life running from mine and sometimes I got the same feel from you."

"Bo, you avoid conversation as a whole with me."

"That isn't true."

"Yes-it is. Don't get me wrong, I am in love with you and I meant what I said—I am yours but in reality the things we know about each other are," she takes a deep breath, letting her eyes fall to the floor. "What do you want to know?"

"I—I don't know I mean is there a thing as natural hybrids or ones at all? Is there a possibility about your parents?"

"I don't know, theoretically a hybrid could exist, **theoretically**. But I haven't found anything on them. With the Light I wasn't given access to files that would go that far back and with Evony I was busy searching for—other things."

"Okay, what about your parents?" I repeat for the fourth or fifth time.

"Bo," she sighs looking over to me as if pleading not to push this. "I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"I don't know, I don't remember much about them, hardly even remember what they look like anymore."

"God, how long has it been since you seen them?"

"Thirty years, give or take a few days." Her voice breaks as she looks away from me again. "They died when I was five, I don't remember it happening but I'm told it was a house fire—only took minutes for the entire house to be gone, we nearly made it out."

"We?" my question a whisper as I scoot closer to her, I want to rest my hand on her back—be comforting but I don't know how she would respond.

"Yeah we," a heavy sigh as she looks up into my eyes. "I have a brother, Aiden. He's two almost three years older than me."

"What?" I don't mean to sound so taken back, I mean I can understand her parents being a secret but her brother too?

"We were close once upon a time,"

"What happened?"

"Bo,"

"You say I don't take an interest, well here I am—" I'm cut off by the sound of my phone vibrating over the table, DYSON written across the screen which makes her look away from me once again. "Hey," I whisper softly, left hand resting on the small of her back as I lean over and press ignore with my free hand. "Lauren, it's only me and you here now."

"Shit." A mumble before she turns a bit to face me. "Back with everything with Taft you found out that my name—it isn't Lauren."

"Yeah, Karen right?" I try to remain gentle despite the stab of pain shooting through my heart.

"No, I mean yeah but no."

"How many names do you have?" I chuckle softly but my slight grin fades seeing the seriousness in her features.

"To date, twenty-two." My eyes widen a bit despite my best effort. "You think I am brilliant at being a doctor well when it comes to running I've written the book on it. You wonder why I tell you I am okay with hiding and the conditions that I find myself in recently—it's because I've been doing it for the better part of my life. Karen was the name I got when I went to live with my aunt, took her last name and got a new first because she didn't want people to find out I was the poor little girl from the fire who lost her parents—said it would save me a lot of grief."

I just nod, hanging on her every word.

"My real name—well my birth name is Rebecca Deveraux-Pierce."

"O—okay."

"I don't know what you're looking for Bo, I don't remember anything other than being raised by my aunt with my brother. I don't remember my parents, I don't remember the fire or how we got out—it's all just blank to me."

"Okay, wh—why were you on the run?" I ask one of the several questions that has been pestering me for almost a year now.

"Bo,"

"Hey—after all of that you really think I can't deal with whatever this is."

"I um, I wanted to change the world and it turns out that sometimes you can lose yourself in an idea if you're not careful. Wanting to change the world for me and my brother went from rallies and protests to pipe bombs and riots. It was one of those escalating things, one protest goes from peaceful to violent and you're doing what you have to do to help your brother or friend and then you see these people you know and love being beaten and arrested and all for what? Because they want change for the same thing you do? It starts to change your prospective, and makes you acceptable to the idea of making a bigger statement, making people take notice-like pipe bombs in closed factories and oil mines and plants."

"You were trying to make a difference, no one can blame you for that." I try and sooth her, my had going to her arm as I lean down ever so slightly trying to get her to look at me without forcing her to do so.

"The eleven people who died can."

"What?"

"The last time, I—they weren't supposed to be there—they weren't supposed to be there but they were. Seven of them had families, had kids. Two were just months from retirement—from that golden time where they could go and play with the grandkids and fall back in love with their wives. I took that away," she looks up to me, tears slipping down her cheeks and it takes a conscious effort to keep my own at bay.

"Hey, hey—it's horrible yes but I know you. You would never do that on purpose."

"Purpose or not doesn't change the outcome." A small sniffle from her as she tightens her jaw. "It was life in prison or run, I ran—though karma had another thing in mind. Sort of funny how it all worked out, huh?"

"Lauren, you don't deserve what has happened to you. I know you-I may not have known this stuff, there is more I don't know-but I know your heart and I know your soul, I know you would never hurt someone intentionally, not someone innocent. I also know that despite what happened, what's been done to you-you don't deserve it."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" she swallows hard and stares into my eyes, peering into my soul. I know she isn't asking about my feelings on her anymore rather than on my own failures—I suppose we have more in common than I ever dreamed of—than I ever hoped for. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"You did but it's okay because it's true."

"Still," she reaches out hand cupping my knee. "Apart from giving you a history of me, I don't know what you thought you would find."

"Me either." I cover her hand with my own, mind racing over her story. "Is it normal that you don't remember about the fire, I mean I remember quite a bit from when I was five and your brother was like seven so didn't he tell you?"

"It's all dependent on the person, the memoires are repressed I guess. I used to ask him about it and I would either get an answer that he didn't remember or that he didn't want to discuss it. Over time it just, it's not that important anymore I guess."

"Well, I think it just became very important."

"Bo," she sighs pulling her hand back as she looks away from me.

"Lauren, nothing changes the fact that you don't remember and have no clue how you are no longer human-if you ever were."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does." I plead, reaching up cupping her cheek and forcing her to look at me. "Baby, please."

"Baby huh?" she smiles softly through glassy eyes.

"Yeah, baby." I whisper with a tiny nod before leaning in, lips lingering atop of hers. It's not sexual, just loving-comforting, something that will convey everything that I can't say aloud.

"Even—even if it's possible and even if I wanted to go down this rabbit hole-I don't know how. I remember nothing."

"I may have a way."

"What?"

"Trick has been pestering me to see this Oracle chick-what if we got her to—I don't know, give you a once over. Just check if something has been tampered with, no pressure to let her read you unless you want but just see if—"

"Trick won't go for it."

"He owes me."

"Bo,"

"Lauren, you may think I am crazy and you may not believe me but then do it for a piece of mind for me, just let her do the Jedi mind search deal on you-just to see if something is off?"

"And if it isn't?"

"Then we will look into what else it could be."

She sighs looking around the room as I can see her debating this with herself. She is scared but curious—luckily curiosity always won with Lauren.

"Okay." She looks back to me, fear swallowing the depths of her eyes. "For you."

I give a soft smile and nod, left hand holding onto hers as I reach for my phone with the other.

This wasn't something that could wait—if it was just misplaced DNA and family history then so be it, I would be a shoulder to cry on but if it was something else-I could never live with myself if something happened to her and I didn't do everything to try and protect her.


	2. Whisper

_**Chapter Two: Whisper**_

_**(Shared POV)**_

* * *

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_**.**_

_**(Lauren's POV)**_

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_**.**_

"Doc,"

I hear his low rumbling, I keep thinking one day he will speak in a normal tone, at least once-I won't hold my breath for it though. A smirk playing over my lips, I take the shot of Trick's best tequila that I have been babysitting since Bo had decided to take her argument into the privacy of the office before looking over to him.

"Did she display the bat signal?" I tilt my head glancing passed him at Tamsin who is hanging back, a head nod to acknowledge to me-apparently at some point in time she thinks we've become friendly.

"It's not like that." His brow furrowing as he leans against the bar.

"You're here aren't you-sidekick in toe."

"She is concerned."

"About something personal."

"I thought we were passed this." His eyes catch mine, he did have a point—we were over the pettiness and mistrust but IF and this is a HUGE IF, Bo was right about there being something wrong, something to do with my past I didn't want an audience for it.

"We are Dyson." I flash him a soft smile and he returns it, he really does mean well. Reaching over I fill up my shot glass again before setting the bottle down next to him, an unspoken offer. Smirk spreading over my lips before I swallow down my fourth shot of the afternoon, I slide from my stool standing mere inches from him—so close I can faintly feel his breath on my skin. "I know about your offer last night." My eyebrow raising as I speak, words immediately earning that wolf grin of his.

"And I know she took you up on yours."

"She did," my hand resting on his chest as I lean in just a bit. "Multiple times." I have to maneuver myself out from between him and the stool quickly otherwise I know I will laugh with the look he is beginning to get.

I love earning that look from him.

I glance up at Tamsin who is watching me like a hawk. I really cannot get a clear reading on that one, one moment she wants Bo then Dyson and then Bo before Dyson but then back again and—it's all very confusing with her. She feels she has some claim on both, I suppose since she has shared several kisses with Bo, and a few tussles in the bed with Dyson.

She tends to watch me lately around him as if I would do something—to get back at her. I suppose if I was to go for men then I could do worse than Dyson, I mean he does have a bit too much of a hero complex for me but then again I suppose that is better than having an abusive, alcoholic, murderous complex—I could live with it. He wasn't horrible to look at though when I do find men attractive they tend to be—bigger in nature but again there was something about Dyson I found myself drawn too.

We were a group of inappropriate relationships after all.

It wasn't sexual though, he was sort of like a brother—if I had on occasion flirted with for the fun of it—well not that I ever flirted with my real brother—different situations.

I shake my head and laugh at myself as I walk into Trick's office where the three of them had been for a while. Bo had of course needed to act completely alpha and tell me to wait while she handled everything—sometimes it was attractive other times it was a tad unusual how determined she was to be so alpha.

I believe part of it is just her personality, part of her wanting to protect the ones she cares about and wanting to show off a bit while doing it. The other part though I believe is her not completely knowing who '_she_' is yet so she mimics what she sees, what she thinks is right in the situation.

I have to take another three steps in as the pair come in behind me, luckily its Dyson who bumps into me rather than Tamsin.

Trick looks pissed as he stands over by the fire place—seriously pissed, doesn't happen often. Bo doesn't seem all that happy but she shoots me this gentle smile. Then there is the Oracle, another pissed off member of this little impromptu party. Overall she looked sweet though, an older lady—in fact kind of reminded me of the oracle from the Matrix-I think I've had too much to drink.

I smile politely despite the intense stare of this woman.

"No." she speaks through a thick African accent, I'd have to say the Northern region if I was trying to place it. "No—I will NOT read her."

"I'm sorry?" I let out, that being the only thing I can think of to say as she glares at me in—horror?

"I will not read her." She turns to Trick. "I will not."

"Whoa, whoa—we had a deal." Bo barks not bothering to look over to Trick who looks—relieved?

"Not anymore."

"I never thought I would see the day when an Oracle broke her word." Dyson lets out stepping from behind me-hero complex.

"Do not judge me shifter for I see into your heart-you want no part of this."

"Hold your tongue." He growls. "I know nothing of this."

"Not by conscious choice," she looks around the room before her eyes fall on Tamsin. "Like a house of cards this house will fall-I will be no part of this."

"It's okay, it's not that important." I say softly looking between the Oracle and Tamsin who appears not to have a clue why she is suddenly the focus of attention.

"It is," Bo says flatly. "You gave your blood oath, you got your payment—you will follow through." She threatens and I want to step in, tell her it isn't a wise decision to threaten an Oracle, especially one of her ancestry but surprisingly she backs down.

"Understand what happens next is not on me," she says slowly looking from Bo to Trick to Dyson to Tamsin but somehow manages to skip me entirely—it would have been a tad over dramatic had it not been actually been daunting. "Have you chosen an anchor?"

"That would be me." Bo volunteers herself, well I suppose it's only fair—she is forcing me to do this, she may as well come along for the ride to keep me company.

Never once do we get a real date-only-this.

"You may be able to force me into doing this child, but there are some rules that cannot be broken nor bent."

"Why do I feel like there is something you aren't telling us?"

"Bo," I let out shaking my head, I'm not quite sure what game is being played here but whatever it is I suddenly feel the desire to find out and I won't be able to do that if Bo is playing the role of rabid pitbull. "It's okay." I smile softly looking between Trick and Dyson—double agent situation of some kind?

No, not them-Tamsin maybe.

If she was she picked the wrong person to play against, my double agent's persona has a double agent persona—on a good day Mr. Bond wouldn't be able to tell which side I'm playing—unfortunately my last play got a little messy—often does when you include love into the equation.

I smile softly at Bo who is doing her broody pout deal as she leans against the fire place watching Dyson pull the chair out of the way at the Oracle's instruction. Her eyes burning holes through me and I want to ask—I want to know the answer to this apparent mystery being dangled in front of me but I know the Fae all too well, nothing is as simple as that.

"Is he your pick or shall you go down this road alone?"

Why is he different? Why did she skip over Tamsin completely? Is it because he is Light? What would it matter which side they fall to be an anchor to me? Even if by some off the wall, astronomical chance I was some part Fae, Bo was unaligned when she took Dyson into the Dawning.

So many questions.

"Um," I look over to him who gives me that little nod of his, I don't know why I even thought I would need to ask—any chance to play the knight in shining armor and he is there with bells on and chew toy in hand. "Are you sure?"

"Do you really think you need to ask Lauren?"

"Do you two need a moment?" Bo snorts, eyebrow raised as she makes her way to me.

"Shoes, socks and shirts off." The Oracle orders as she begins mixing something in a bowl from an assortment spread out along Trick's desk.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispers holding out her hands for me to keep balance as I kick off my shoes and socks.

"Now you want to listen to me?" My own eyebrow shooting up, God could she be thick headed sometimes. "It's okay Bo, besides what else would I be doing this afternoon?"

"I could think of a few things." Her lips curving into a smirk as she watches me begin to pull my shirt off.

"You have no shame."

"When it comes to you—none." She leans in going for a kiss but I turn my head slightly allowing her to get my cheek.

I know she is hurt by this but I wasn't stupid, we still haven't talked, still haven't cleared anything up, in fact we've suddenly added twice as many questions. I wasn't going to allow her to play the concerned girlfriend now only to have her fall back into the role of indecisive ex by tonight when she felt like taking Dyson for a spin rather than me.

The hurt is undoubtedly written over her features but she forces out a gentle smile and takes my shirt from me. If she only knew how much I wish I could trust her-how much I want to believe that if I accept a kiss now and believe last night was the beginning of something rather than just us slipping into old habits.

My eyes lock on my gift to her, the one she hasn't removed since she put it on-no time to discuss this now.

I look over to Dyson who is on the last moments of having symbols drawn over his chest as she speaks words in an unidentifiable language—that's an unusual word for me.

I come to stand in front of him, nervous smile on my face as she turns to begin the process on me. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts I barely feel her—hear her but what I do happen to catch is Bo's hand on his forearm as she leans into him and whispers '_Take care of her'_. The fact that it's an order rather than a request bringing a genuine grin to my lips—short lived though.

"Lay down next to one another, hands shall be grazing one another but not touching—never touching."

We do as she says, he looks as nervous as me—why?

"This is of the upmost importance—do not let one another go. No matter what is seen, no matter what is done you two are each other's life line."

Yep, that makes me feel so much more comfortable.

"I ask one more time child, are you sure?" I think the question is for me.

She knees down in between us, palms covering each of our foreheads, both of us tilting out heads toward her but she is looking directly at me—through me.

Who am I too her? Does she know me? Does she know the answers to these questions without even looking into my muddled mind?

"Some doors are better left closed Rebecca." She whispers as I watch the color drain from her eyes.

My eyelids suddenly so heavy they close without my permission—perhaps for the best. There is this strange tingling sensation resonating in the tip of my fingers and toes almost as if lost circulation is returning.

I'm so cold-it's not a rush or a chill but a coldness seeping through my skin, through my muscles and resonating within my bones. I'm shaking—I think I'm shaking—my mind is so scattered all of a sudden-I can't think-can't focus on anything other than the cold.

My lungs burn-it's as if they've been set on fire-my chest so heavy—a feeling of a million tons resting upon it.

This isn't real—this isn't happening-I am laying on the floor of Trick's office-Dyson is next to me and Bo is watching me-this isn't real-I'm panicking-think Lauren-breathe.

My eyes won't open-I'm gasping for breath—I want to call for help but I can't find my voice-I have no voice-I have no clear thought—all there is, is the cold-it's not cold-it's-freeze.

Why can't I think? Why can't I breathe? Why can't I move? Why can't I open my eyes?

All I can feel-all I can think is the coldness.

.

_(Go back…..Go back….It's not safe here….before it's too late…turn back….)_

_._

I can't form my own coherent thoughts-can barely hear my own internal voice but this echoing whisper of a stranger I can hear as clear as I feel the coldness.

Is it Dyson?

No—the voice has a haunting familiarity but it's not him-not Trick-not Aiden—who are you?

.

_(It's not safe…..it's not too late yet…..please….please go back…..)_

_._

I can't breathe-I can't feel my heart beating within my chest-am I still alive?

* * *

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_**(Bo's POV)**_

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.

I know I should sit, as they have told me repeatedly this could take a while but I just can't so instead I stand here staring down at them with my arms folded over my chest as I shift my weight back and forth—Lauren's technique and occasionally running my tongue along the back points of my teeth—nervous habit of my own.

Tamsin remains leaning against the door watching just as intently—why though? Why does she seem so put off by this—by the Oracle's words? She has that lost little girl look—the one she had right after Kenzi died, the one she had when she confessed to me of her betrayals.

I glance over at Trick who is sitting in his chair behind me pretending to read a book but I've caught his eyes on them one too many times. Why was he so against this? I get that he was hell bent on me and the Oracle getting our Matrix on but this was important—he owed me.

The sound of glass tinkering brings my attention back to the Oracle who stands by the desk tinkering with some shit but her eyes rarely leave the two most important people left in my life.

Something isn't right.

Was I wrong? Did I jump the gun? Should I have thought this through better? Should I have played detective when I realized there was some serious subtext going on here?

God I miss Kenz, for so MANY reasons but the one at the moment would be the fact she would have been the voice of reason, Hale too. Kenz would have made it funny and like a slap in the face while Hale would make it seem like a slap on the hand but they would have been the voices of reason-something I need more often than not.

I just wanted to know she was okay—I know what I tasted-I know what I felt-it wasn't human-she isn't human-I'm not wrong—could I be?

I tear my eyes from hers as they meet, I keep the gaze just long enough to make sure she knows I don't fear her—I do though.

Lauren looks so beautiful even if she looks like she is doubling as a kid's chalkboard, who am I kidding, she couldn't look bad if she tried.

I wonder what she is going through though—I wish I could have been the one there with her.

She looks so peaceful-so-

"LAUREN!"

I jump at the sudden frightful growl coming from Dyson as he bolts up somehow managing to gasp for breath as he calls out for her.

* * *

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_**(Lauren's POV)**_

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Lauren open your eyes.

Open your fucking eyes!

Gasping for breath my eyes fly open-I wish they didn't.

I'm staring down through my frosted breath at violent waves crashing into the rocks-I's leaning over the very edge of a cliff yet I can't pull back—I can't move other than tremble from the cold. My bare feet buried beneath the snow that reaches just above my ankle but I can't tear my eyes from the waves.

Where am I-where is Dyson?

I want to call for him-suddenly knowing he is somewhere here with me is like a child's security blanket but now the fact I can't find him terrifying me all more.

Where am I?

These are my memories? I think not—I think I would remember being a damn Eskimo.

For a moment there is stillness-a calm that spreads through me like these waves through the ocean.

.

_(RUN…..RUN…GET OUT…NOW…DAMMIT RUN…)_

_._

That voice-it's no longer a whisper but a growl-not Dyson's growl-not a wolf growl-something else.

The frost is back, what once took several heartbeats to accomplish is done in one -I feel my heart now though-pounding as violently within my chest as these waves pound the rock—my toes even with the ledge as my body tilts over daring gravity to take over.

I want to pull back-why can't I pull back?

.

_(RUN….. DAMMIT RUN…RUN…WAKE UP…..WAKE UP NOW!)_

_._

Who are you?

As if I have no control of my body I begin to look over my shoulder at whatever it was that was coming for me.

* * *

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_**(Bo's POV)**_

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"Lauren," he says quietly to himself for the third time as he sort of rocks, his body covered in sweat within in a matter of seconds, color draining from his cheeks.

"What about Lauren?" I don't have time for this. He is up and scared-she is still lying there as a cool as cucumber. Rushing from behind him to his side, I stare into his glassy eyes. "Dyson, focus. What happened? Where is Lauren?"

"I-I don't know. There was someone-something there with us—she could hear me-couldn't see me."

"What do you mean something else was there? Where?"

"I—I don't know." He pants staring down in his lap.

"You should have let me go!" I snap looking over my shoulder at the Oracle who seems almost—fearful herself.

"I told you I cannot break these rules—"

"You can't even bend them, yeah I got that the first time Chelo." I jump up to my feet, spinning around to face her. "What rules?" I demand but she doesn't look at me, she looks to Trick. "Look at me! What rules? What do you know?"

"Bo,"

"Shut up!" I snap at Trick who is approaching—he had his chance to be honest, to be forthcoming now I needed answers not another handful of bullshit..

"You are Dark-darkness in a pure form is swimming within that heart of yours child, darkness unlike your father's or his father before him—you cannot cross the lines that keep a balance—it would be unnatural."

"Okay-okay so Dyson is Light, why is here instead of taking a nice stroll down memory lane with my—with Lauren?" I try to keep my voice from raising-from breaking. I can't focus on what she is saying about, I don't have time.

"I don't know." She says almost in a whisper-I think I like the lies better.

"You never intended to actually allow them did you?" Tamsin lets out as she finally moves from the door. "It was an illusion,"

"Tamsin." Trick barks grabbing my attention for a mere moment.

"They would have walked through memories she knows, maybe even some her and him share, maybe a memory or two she forgot along the way—birthday gift or some shit but it's a cheap trick, seen it a million times."

"Is that right?" I look from Trick to the Oracle—I know it's true—don't need an answer or their pathetic looks to confirm it—the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach is all of the reassurance I need. "So what-fuck the fact of why—we'll get to that and believe me we will—but where is she now?"

"I don't know, her mind—it's fragmented."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning it's shattered into a billion little pieces and was super glued back together with all the little red pieces left out that the artist didn't want in there." Tamsin continues her usefulness.

"She should NOT have been able to gain access to them." The Oracle snarls, looking passed me and to Lauren who still hasn't moved an inch. "Where she is now—how—I do not know and that is the truth, I swear on the Gods of the Fae-I do not."

* * *

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_**(Lauren's POV)**_

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Fluttering eyelids switch my landscape like a kaleidoscope and when my vision finally comes back into focus-I don't know what I feel.

A hint of familiarity—a hint of a feeling I barely remember anymore—home?

The cold is gone, the pain is gone—there is nothing but warmth.

I look down to find bare feet firmly placed in grass rather than snow but these feet—they're so tiny. Hands lifting up of their own will to wave at something in the distance but again they are so tiny.

Where am I? Who am I? Am I me?

I look over to where I was waving, my eyes finding little Aiden in his Sunday best of black slacks, a white dress shirts with the sleeves up and top button undone, a black vest hanging open—he's seven—I think. He is doing something odd though—he's near glowing, this smile across his face so wide—I don't think I've ever seen that before.

Appearing behind him a lady bare foot as we are but in a white sun dress—she's beautiful like one of those glamorous models from the forties or fifties. Her smile is stunning and her laugh infectious—I can't hear it yet but I just know. Her hair down, dancing as she runs and the warm summer's breeze blows; it has just the slightest wave and is the color of the sun.

Never have I seen someone so beautiful as her.

"Come here silly goose," her voice like silk as she scoops me up in her arms and twirls us around. "Don't you know you're supposed to run?" she laughs nuzzles her cheek against mine.

"Mum, Becca doesn't know how to run."

"You will have to teach your little sister," she pauses as she puts me down but keeps a hold of my hand. "It may become of some use some day."

"You'll protect me from anything I need to run from mum," the words leave my mouth without a thought.

"My love," she kneels down, running her fingertips along my cheek. "For as long as there is breath in my lungs I will protect you, and when the day comes that my heart no longer beats and I have returned to the earth your brother will take my place."

"Mum don't say such things." He says with a scowl.

"Of course silly me," she stands flashing another smile. "I will live to be four thousand and you two will be well into your grandchildren's grandchildren's—so on."

"Come run with us mum." I say tugging on her arm.

"I wish I could my lovely, but I must check on your father. You know how that man gets when working on something, without me here to remind him he would forget to eat along with—"

"His head." Me and Aiden finish her sentience in a fit of giggles, her arms reaching out and pulling us to her as we begin walking, the two of us latched onto her so tightly it must hurt.

"So I have said this before, I see—well then it's just your father who doesn't listen." She gives us this little pat on the back before pulling her embrace away. "Now run along, perhaps I can track down Jacob and send him out."

I come to a still as I watch her walk away from me—I want to cry for her-run after her but I am frozen.

I slowly begin to remember this is a memory and I must act according or rather live it according. I cannot speak, I cannot move but I seem to be able to look-look at everything.

Like my mother.

Like the enormous house she is nearly at, it is truly enormous near castle like and by the architecture it's from somewhere in old England. Suddenly the realization that not only my mother but my brother have a faint accent—I was born in Montreal, why are we here?

I look over to my brother who is looking up at a plane flying overhead but I just watch him—it's been so long—I've forgotten him almost. Forgotten that he looks nothing like me or apparently our mother. Dark brown eyes to go along with jet black hair, almost looks more as if he could be related to Bo.

Bo-I almost forgot.

"Little sister, come now." He says and without warning I am running after him laughing—I don't know why I am laughing but we are—God, I forgot what it was like to laugh just for the sake of laughing. "Little sister, you're falling behind."

"I'm coming." My own thoughts echo my reproduced voice.

We run and run across a field of freshly cut grass so green I'm sure it must be fake. My mind drifting between my own thoughts and those of my shadow self.

Abruptly my vision blurs as it had minutes ago and when it clears I am running in the front door of my house, Aiden running down the long hall. But I don't run I walk—I don't know why I am walking or how I got here but I observe—it's all I can do.

It's extravagant, it's elegant—it's beyond anything imaginable.

I come to a stop and look at this suit of armor, one of several displayed proudly along this extensive hall. I feel like I like this one—like I stop to do this often—an attachment of sorts.

It's obviously made for a female warrior, the under color black with a reddish orange tint coating it—why does this feel so familiar?

I take a few steps to the left, little fingers running along a glass case that happens to be tilted downward, a scroll of some kind inside on display—I'm not tall enough to read all of it or even most of it, only the last few bottom lines.

.

_From the dust I was created I will undoubtedly return,_

_From the ashes of destruction I will undoubtedly rise,_

_From death I will undoubtedly be reborn,_

_._

A strange familiarity at these words, a sense of pride when I say the to myself-it's all so familiar as if a memory slowly floating back to me, but I cannot place them, my eyes moving down to the engraving of a Phoenix just underneath the words, flames drawn around it.

I thought they had been extinct for a thousand plus years along with every trace of them except a few trinkets here and there, small things that the likes of the Dark and Light had buried somewhere—not in my family's hall to be on display.

My eyes begin to blur out of focus, an unusual pain resonating in the back of my head. When they begin to refocus yet again I am not standing in front of this display but rather being grabbed by my mother, my brother being pushed against me so hard it brings pain, he's crying—I'm crying?

"Anya they are coming." This man says rushing into this—office? He sets a spear on a desk—his desk as he looks at us, pure fear in his eyes but he manages a tearful smile. He looks just like my brother. "Anya."

"I know Caleb." She snaps looking over her shoulder and then back to us, tears filling her eyes. "No matter what you see, no matter what you hear you stay in here and you do not make a sound. Quite as mice in our church during mass, do you understand me?" we nod. "Remember," she pauses, hands placed over our hearts. "All my heart." She kisses us roughly atop of the head before pushing us into this—wardrobe.

Aiden holds onto me as we both peer through the split between the doors. She gives our father a kiss before turning toward the door that opens with such force we see one side slide across the floor.

"Where is it Anya?" a male's deep, raspy voice asks.

"Tell him the deal is off,"

"It' doesn't work that way." This time a female's voice.

"It has to. Deception upon deception, my kind would never go through with this—he must have known when I found out I wouldn't take any further part."

"Anya, give it to us-no one has to die." Another female's voice. "Would you be as so foolish as to die on principles, principles that have all but been forgotten?"

"It is what I believe in, my mother and father before me and so backward until my lineage began. Do you not remember yours?"

"Speak nothing to us of our lineage," the male's voice raises as heavy footsteps near till he is in the line of sight. I can't see his face but I see his wings—black wings I recognize—Valkyrie wings.

"Brother," she says softly taking a step toward him, reaching out and cupping his cheek—an embrace he seems to nuzzle into. "Was one fall from grace not enough? Must you commit another—" her words cut off as he grabs her by the face—my brother gripping my arm as I try to move. "Caleb no!" she screams the best she can manage as my father lunges at her attacker.

He never makes it near them as a glimmer flashes by our narrow vision—but I see something. I see my father's leg—his arm—part of his torso—suspended in air against the wall maybe five feet above the ground. I hear my mother's scream and feel my brother's hand go over my mouth.

There is this screech that follows before the sound of glass shattering—her attacker releasing her and stumbling backward holding his head as if in immense pain. It's only a moment and she has the spear in her hand, these wings emerging from her back. They aren't like Valkyrie wings, these are white with a mixture of red and organ ever so slightly mixed in creating its own uniquely beautiful color, they are long but narrow toward then end—wings of a Phoenix?

I cannot see much but my mother is holding them off rather easily—all six of them. It's perhaps seconds and two have already fallen at her hand-and then a third.

It's a solid twenty seconds before she loses her weapon and the fight becomes far more primal—only glimpses are seen of them as they fly through the air-another falls.

It's another ten to fifteen seconds before another falls—this time it's my mother.

The only male landing on his feet next to her staring down but his back is too me—I can't see his face.

"The Dark King sends his condolences," his words a chuckle as he lifts his leg, foot positioned for her face.

"Stop!' I yell bolting through the doors with such force that I fall face forward onto the ground heard enough to break skin as I feel the blood already rushing down the side of my face. "Stop!" I make it too my feet just in time to find myself being dragged out of the office and down the hall my eyes never once leaving that man's—and his never leaving mine.

Reaching the main hall just feet from the door a loud thud forces me to look forward—I don't want to-I want to see my mother who has managed to get out from his hold.

In front of us a boy in his late teens larger than life, he looks like my mother even more so by the fact that he isn't wearing a shirt so there is nothing to obstruct his immense wings.

"Come now." He says scooping us in his massive arms and running us through the open door out into the driveway and then to the grass where this had all begun. "Take her and run! Don't look back."

I know that voice.

Once again I am being pulled by my toward the tree line, my eyes watching as the familiar stranger spreads his wings and makes it back to the house in a single leap.

"Little sister!" Aiden yells and despite my mind wanting to keep looking back-wanting to go back I look forward as I run.

I run so hard it hurts—so hard I can't breathe-sticks and stones cutting through the flesh at the bottoms of my feet but I don't stop—the sun begins ever so slightly but I don't stop.

I don't stop until I smack into something rock solid, I would have fallen back had it not reached out and grabbed my arms.

"Careful girl," I know this voice. Eye move up this massive body slowly to find my eyes staring into those of Isaac—the Ash who had imprisoned me.

"Let her go." Aiden yells breathlessly and runs for him only to be held at arm's length, Isaac's hand on his shoulder.

"Aiden," I like my brother turn to the voice coming from the trees. "It's okay." From the trees emerges-?

I can't believe-No—No—No-my vision begins to blur and pattern holding to form when it clears I am being carried out of the woods by an officer—my brother not far behind being carried by another.

Looking over toward the house-it is nothing more than a ball of flames.

It's night now—but with as big as this fire is, as violent as its flames are-it may as well have been day.

I stare at this ball of flames-my home-the tomb where my mother and father lay-where that man-whoever he was must lay as well.

I stare into the flames as I feel something welling inside of myself, hatred-anger-pain-agony—terror-numbness.

Abruptly I'm freezing again-shaking-but I'm not-my vision blurring but there is this new pain now—this pain on both sides of my shoulders as if I'm being pulled toward something. A sick feeling spreading through my stomach as I feel myself being ripped through time.

The memories replaying backward in a blur stopping when I find myself standing on the ledge looking down—it's only moment and I being ripped toward-reality?

"Lauren-breathe dammit-breath!" I hear Bo's voice.

"Breathe." This order coming from-Dyson?

"Lauren-baby please breathe." Her voice pulling me further toward reality-but what reality?

My eyes open as I gasp for air—already in an upright position-body trembling—I can finally feel myself trembling and though I feel this frost in my bones I'm drenched in sweat.

She is holding my shoulders staring into my eyes with so much fear-so much terror but I can't—I can't sympathize with it-I know it should hurt me like it always does but in this moment—I feel nothing-not for her-or anyone.

"Lauren," her hands release my shoulders and go to my face before falling back down to my arms. "Are you okay? Can you breathe?" eyes dance over my face with such concern. "Lauren-say something."

"I remember."


End file.
